


Cabin Fever

by Asharen



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Constatin Takes Charge, Journey to Teer Fradee, Oral Sex, Other, Sexual Tension, Threesome - F/M/M, Vaginal Sex, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24866551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asharen/pseuds/Asharen
Summary: Kurt catches De Sardet and Constantin in a compromising position after a moment of weakness. De Sardet's grateful that he's willing to look the other way and forget it ever happened but Constantin has plans of his own. How much persuasion will it take to break through the good Guard Captain's reservations and get them what they all want?
Relationships: Kurt/Constantin d'Orsay/De Sardet
Comments: 8
Kudos: 35





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this one lying around in my projects folder for a while but I finally got around to finishing it up! I couldn't decide whether I wanted to write about Kurt or Constantin so I wrote about both! Set in the same world as 'Underneath the Fountain's Waters. 
> 
> It's not gone through as many edits so it might be a little on the rough side, apologies.

De Sardet shifted, muscles warm when she stretched long and languorous between the bodies pressed in on both her sides. It felt _wonderful,_ almost novel it had been so long since she had felt like this _._ Relaxation rolled through her like a slow wave cosying up against the shore in some tropical clime. She blinked against the orange tint of sunset, slowly and sleepily.

It was gone.

_Gone._

Her stomach felt good. Quiet and still. It was no longer holding her ransom and threatening to drop through the roiling, rocking floor of this stupid, _stupid_ boat. She could have cried with elation. Or perhaps jumped up and punched the air if she wasn’t so sleep drunk. Instead, a slow smile creeped across her lips. It made her cheeks ache it had been so long. She rubbed it against the cloth alongside her face but the smile stayed in place, unable to be wiped away. Weeks and weeks of seasickness were just…gone - like a candle snuffed by a stiff breeze. And with it, the need to hang over the ship’s damned railing for hours at a time whilst the Nauts tried not to laugh at her. De Sardet almost laughed herself, she was just so giddy. The full breath she pulled in through her noise was all salt, cedar, and well-loved cologne. There was no hint of nausea lurking in the background.

It felt like the first proper lungful she had taken in months.

She chuckled softly, feeling almost benevolent enough to forgive the stupid Nauts and their Godsforsaken sea-faring prowess.

_“You’ll get your sea legs soon enough,” they had said._

That had been weeks and weeks and weeks ago. Lairs, all of them. The bastards.

Regardless of whether this was but a momentary reprieve or a sign of better times to come, as soon as De Sardet set on Teer Fradee, that was it. Come hell or high water, she’d do everything in her power to remain landlocked for the rest of her life. Regardless of what anyone, even her uncle, said. The island could in shambles and the natives as hostile as The Bride Alliance claimed. Hell, the volcano at its centre could explode and still she’d never set foot on another boat – sorry, _‘ship’_ – again _._

Fucking boats. The sooner this journey came to an end-

A warm hand stopped her thoughts dead in their tracks when it slipped beneath the loose edge of her shirt. As it always did. Constantin’s long fingers, so familiar and graceful that she would have easily known them anywhere, traced soothing, meandering patterns on her skin; over the rise of her hip and along the edge of her breeches.

“Feeling better?” he murmured into her skin. His voice was still terribly scratchy, still half-asleep as he nuzzled the sensitive spot just below her ear.

Before the smile could fully soften and she could teasingly chastise him for his presumptuous fingers, she remembered just who was pressed tight to her other side. Whose fingers were loosely laced through hers. Who had soothed her with long, solid strokes across the ball of her thumb as Constantin had done the same with her hair – both of them trying to soothe and distract, doing whatever it took to keep the nausea at bay.

The solid shoulder beneath her cheek was still, much to her relief. Their stern Master of Arms might have melted to something soft with the midday heat to let her borrow his shoulder so but there was no guarantee he’d stay so amicable. He rather struck her as the sort to wake up grumpy and stay that way. Kurt’s head was tilted away from her, the line of his jaw sharp and masculine despite the shadows that lay over his skin like a dark blanket.

De Sardet sighed wistfully and unlaced her fingers from Kurt’s, turning to look at the other handsome bastard in the room.

Constantin smiled at her, chin perched on her hip, lashes long on his still heavy lids – looking prettier than most girls she knew at court. He was lovely, really, bathed in the soft orange light that streamed through the small portholes to paint wooden walls and pale skin. Hair mussed and with a couple days of growth darkening his jaw, he looked nothing like the son of a prince. But with his airy smile, edged always with a hint of mischief, he looked very much like the man that held her heart. The shadow of the boy she had given it to so many years ago remained still in the soft line of his cheeks and the creases around his eyes.

She realised she was staring when one perfect, blond eyebrow disappeared beneath a lock of hair that had fallen into his face. “Well?”

De Sardet rolled her eyes in a half-hearted attempt to distract from the pink staining her cheeks, “As well as can be expected on this-”

As if the damned thing knew she was about to start badmouthing it, the boat lurched and she just about bit off her damned tongue. The resulting noise she made, born of an intense union of fire and vitriol in the back of her throat, was as clear as any expletive however. Constantin chuckled thickly, tickling the shell of her ear and stirring up her hairline to dance on the flow of his humour. De Sardet made to swat back at him, unsure of when he moved up behind her, but he snatched up her hand before it could connect, placing a lingering kiss to knuckles.

“I’m so pleased to hear it,” he said before pressing a second, firmer kiss to her shoulder, hand back to sliding over her hips and stomach.

De Sardet yelped when he tugged her firmly towards him, slotting her into the waiting bow of his body. The panic rising in her throat as her head swivelled towards Kurt – still sleeping thank goodness – did nothing to quell the heat that rose in her when she felt Constantin’s cock press tight against her ass. It didn’t help that his hand had drifted higher, rucking up her shirt with it, to idly stroke the underside of her unbound breast.

“Constantin…” De Sardet warned him on an indrawn breath, grasping at his wrist.

“Hmmm?” He murmured into the skin of her neck, hand still roaming despite her grip.

De Sardet’s head fell forward, a mere inch away from being pressed to Kurt once more, breath hitching whenever Constantin came tantalisingly close to her nipple. She had no idea how long he held her suspended there, anxiously waiting for him to touch her properly, to take her in hand. Gods, she was reacting like it had been months since he had last touched her when, in truth, it had only been two days. She shouldn’t have already been so worked up, so- Only when he hissed close to her ear did she even become aware that she was rocking against his cock in rolling, _seeking_ movements. When he finally, _finally_ rolled her straining flesh between his fingers, she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stifle her breathy moan.

Constantin said something too low to catch over her squirming, over the need to grind back against him. All De Sardet could hear was her panting, loud in the dark space where her head hung between her body and Kurt’s. All she could feel was those clever fingers working her, pulling and rolling and– Even with the threat of Kurt waking and catching them, she couldn’t help but react to Constantin’s attentions. He knew just what to do, just how to touch her to make her quiver.

“ _Please_.” It escaped her mouth before she could stop it, cracking and needy. She wasn’t sure what she was asking for; for him to stop or to continue or for him to fuck her here, right next to their mentor. Lids scrunching, she bit down on her lip hard enough that she knew it would swell and probably bruise. For some reason, the pain, the idea, only made her wetter.

“We _can’t_ ,” she whispered over Constantin’s satisfied hum, “Kurt’s right-”

 _“_ Is that not half the fun?” Constantin asked wickedly, low and deep in her ear.

She felt the rumble of the words in her back and between her thighs. He wasn’t playing fair, she wanted to say but the only thing that would come out of her mouth was a needy whimper. When Constantin tugged her lobe between his teeth, she jolted like someone had threaded lightening through her limbs.

The whimper turned into a moan before she could stop it, her hand clenching down on shadowed calluses. The calluses of a warrior. Kurt’s hands were hard and strong under her clawed fingers and, thankfully, unmoving. That didn’t stop her from thinking about how those hands would feel on her skin, kneading her ass and thighs, how thick they’d feel inside of her whilst Constantin played with her nipples and kissed her stupid. How they would look wrapped around his cock as he guided himself into her.

The ache between her thighs turned sharp as her pussy clenched down on nothing.

“I need-” she started before swallowing, unable to continue.

Constantin chuckled once more, hot and smug. De Sardet tried to push him back, tried to make him understand that they needed to go elsewhere. To that dark spot between crates in the depths of the ship. That she needed him to fuck her, now. To bend her over one of them and take her, over and over until the ache turned hot and thick and _satisfied._

She barely understood Constantin when he spoke once more, she was so lost in the idea.

“Besides,” he said, too casual, too _everything,_ as he plucked at her nipple, “the good Captain had been awake for some time. Isn’t that right?”

De Sardet froze, lurching in Constantin’s hands as if someone had sloshed ice water over her. It was only then that she realised her forehead was pressed hard to Kurt’s bicep and that the muscles below her were too still. Purposefully still. Now that she was aware of it, she felt the tension that had been coiled just below the surface the entire time. How could she have missed that?

“Enjoying the show, Captain?”

“Shit.” De Sardet sprung upright and slid to the edge of the pallet, dropping Kurt’s hand like he had burned her. Her ears were so hot she thought they might melt off of her face. “Shit. This isn’t-”

Kurt sighed deeply and opened his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling for a moment before turning to look at her, at both of them. His jaw was tight, flexing and his lids shuttered. He looked about as uncomfortable as she’d ever seen him but not angry, strangely enough. She had been expecting anger and disappointment. This reaction was tepid, barely anything at all. Swallowing hard enough that she could see his Adam’s apple flex, Kurt opened his mouth to say something…

“It’s a little later for that, Coeur.” Constantin beat Kurt to it. He was completely unfazed – the infuriating cad – as he stretched out by her hip like some sunbathing housecat, propping his head on his hand. He ignored her glare with a lofty shrug, with all the coolness of a man who’d been caught in with his breeches round his ankles on more than one occasion. “If anything,” he continued, “It’s a wonder that he wasn’t already suspicious.”

“That’s because one of us actually cares about not being caught,” she hissed back viciously but to no avail, Constantin only shrugged once more.

“How long?” Both Constantin and De Sardet turned to look at Kurt. He’d sat up and was running a large hand over his face, elbows braced on split knees, looking as if he regretted asking such a question.

“Oh, Kurt. Not that-”

“Don’t insult the man, love. He’s sharper than he looks and you’re an abysmal liar.” Constantin just grinned back at their scowls, relying on his charm and winning smile to get him out of trouble. Typical. It always had been his first line of defence. And offence. “Long enough. What difference does it make?”

Kurt snorted, hand still worrying at his mouth, then lingering about his stubble. He wouldn’t look at them, shoulders bowed in something that read as disappointment. She tried not to think about how much that stung. Instead, De Sardet pinched the bridge of her nose, just managing to suppress the urge to smack her lover upside the head. How could he be so… _infuriating?_ So reckless? How could she have gone along with it?

As if she didn’t rightly know. The still warm slick between her thighs was an uncomfortable reminder and one she was unable to ignore. Desire was still awash in her system; her skin flushed and begging to be touched, her rubbing thighs unable to ease the swollen, yearning ache. She couldn’t help but notice the strong line of Kurt’s shoulders, the strength in his arms. When she looked back at Constantin to find him looking at her knowingly, it only made her run hotter.

When Kurt finally spoke, his words were calm and measured. “I’m going to pretend I never saw any of _this._ ”

He stood so slowly that it might have been mistaken for reluctance. The room felt smaller somehow with Kurt standing in the middle of it, looking like he’d forgotten why he was there in the first place. Glaring blankly at the door as if it was somehow at fault for their indiscretions.

“Now there’s a pity,” Constantin said and she felt the heat of him slide up behind her, knees bracketing her hips. Suddenly small was verging on claustrophobic.

“What?” De Sardet and Kurt said in unison, the latter turning back to face them warily.

She had never seen Kurt look so unsure, so lost. So… _something._ He looked and he looked at them till the silence was stretched high and thin and choking. She wanted to beg him to say something. She wanted to beg him to touch her too. She felt just as strained as the atmosphere, desperate for relief.

And Constantin knew it, damn him.

She knew his Cornflower eyes would be steely with want, drunk with power, and could all too easily imagine the dark depths as he tugged her flush against him – her back to his chest. Gods, he was so hard and hot against her back, his cock heavy where it pressed against her. Pressing a kiss to her dewy temple, Constantin looked at Kurt over her shoulder.

“It’s just that-” she could hear him lick his lips, the cadence of his words flowing and lulling, designed purely for seduction. ”-we both have such an… _admiration_ for you, Captain. Isn’t that right, Coeur?”

“Constantin-” her admonishment was cut short, moulded into a smoky moan, when Constantin twisted a hand in her hair and pulled hard. Baring the length of her throat, her collarbone, and one shoulder where her shirt had slipped to the man in front of them.

“Can you blame me?” Constantin continued casually, though there was a feral promise hidden in the tone, eyes locked on Kurt, whose rugged features were torn and open. Confused and intrigued. His eyes, so pale blue they were icy, trailed the length of her skin before fluttering closed and scrunching tight.

Her skin _burned_ where they had lingered.

“Is she not exquisite?”

Kurt’s only answer was a choked sound that made Constantin preen. De Sardet could feel it in the way his fingers flexed in her hair, the way his chest puffed up behind her.

“Why don’t you tell the Captain what you think of him?”

De Sardet didn’t think she was capable, even if she had wanted to. Long fingers glanced her midriff momentarily before stroking upwards to her ribs. Constantin was using her, displaying her to Kurt like some prize – her body bowed back against him and begging, breasts thrust forward in invitation, her knees fallen and open.

When Kurt opened his eyes, she could see he was burning too. Whatever spell Constantin held her under, it held Kurt just as firmly. But still there was uncertainty. Despite his rough appearance, Kurt was a man of honour and this was a hard line to cross. Not so long ago they were his charges, and recently they had been tentatively moving towards being his friends. Friends that were inviting him to share their bed and bodies.

By the Enlightened, how she wanted him to say yes.

“Coeur.”

“I-” De Sardet swallowed, trying to split her focus away from the soft fingertips playing on her skin. From Kurt’s insistent, unwavering stare.

“Perhaps you’d prefer to tell Kurt what you’d like to do to him instead, hm?” Constantin was incorrigible, ever a persistent rumble in her ears. Kurt jerked when he heard his name in Constantin’s lowest register, his eyes dropping to the hand on her ribs, mouth working silently. “How you’ve thought of him whilst you’ve touched yourself. How you have imagined that your fingers are his, fucking you open to take his cock. Have you wondered what he tastes like, love?”

Yes, yes, _yes._

She wanted to sob for need of relief but before she could say anything, Constantin cupped her breast and hefted the warm weight of her in his palm. Both Kurt and De Sardet sucked in a reedy breath and her head lolled back on Constantin’s shoulder, offering herself further. Even so, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Kurt. His jaw was rigid, his entire body was, hands fisted at his side, as he watched Constantin roll her nipple between his fingers.

Tight, straining, and flushed rosy pink, she knew. Chest heaving as she panted, her breaths deafening in the tiny, humid cabin. Kurt looked as if someone had poleaxed him.

Constantin’s hand slid from her hair, curving around to mould itself around the delicate column of her throat. He didn’t squeeze, just stroked a thumb across her racing pulse. He didn’t need to. It was plainly obvious who was in charge.

“Please,” was all she could say.

Kurt’s gaze snapped up to hers and she felt like the metal under the hammer of a gun, like a rabbit in a snare.

He _wanted_ her.

She gasped for him and watched him shiver, watched the ice melt and soften and darken. It was like a fist to the gut, wet heat radiating through her pelvis until she was throbbing and clenching with every heartbeat.

“ _Please,”_ she said again.

“Are you telling me that you haven’t thought about it?” Constantin asked him, chuckling when she moaned as he pulled her nipple roughly. “Haven’t you wondered?”

“No,” Kurt said but she could see that it was reflex, out of his mouth before he could even think on it. Even if he hadn’t thought of it before, he was now, the bulge in his breeches now obvious.

“Then you are a far better man than I.”

“I should leave,” Kurt muttered, embarrassed and admonished, ducking his head and reaching for the door.

Constantin twisted her pebbled flesh. The husky yelp, the begging sob he tore from her throat stopped Kurt dead, hand hovering halfway to freedom.

“Come now, Captain,” Constantin whispered against her jaw, tongue flicking out to taste the salt on her skin. “Can’t you see how she burns for you? Are you just going to leave her like this – wet and wanting – with no relief? How cruel you are.”

Both she and Kurt made noises they would later deny.

Kurt’s hand was shaking but he did not lower it, did not turn around to look at them. To look at _her._

“Touch yourself,” Constantin commanded, “Tell him what you want.”

The hand on her breast slipped down her stomach when she did as he bade, dipping below the waistband of her breeches.

“I want you,” she managed to croak, throat working hard under Constantin’s hand, and Kurt whipped around, eyes flying wide as the sight of her cupping and kneading her own chest. Constantin’s thumb stroked along her jaw, coaxing her on. “I want you – you to touch me. I want to know what you feel like, what you-” her eyes dropped to Kurt’s open mouth, taking in the soft and full lips, “-taste like.”

She knew she was offering herself to him like some common whore, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, wanted them both. When Constantin’s thumb caressed her bottom lip, she licked the pad of it, eyes locked with Kurt. He cursed and clapped a hand to his mouth, turning away. And then back to her. Chest working and trousers straining.

He looked like a man that was slowly breaking. It shouldn’t have made her proud, shouldn’t have made her blood pound harder in her ears, but it did. He looked _wrecked._

“Good girl,” Constantin praised her. She jerked and twisted, gasped and arched up, when Constantin sunk two fingers into her, hilting himself for but a moment. A few wonderful, fleeting curls of his fingers were all she was permitted before he pulled his hand free of her trousers.

De Sardet was far too gone, too hot, worked up to near frenzy, to be embarrassed about the way Constantin’s fingers glistened in the light.

Kurt inhaled sharply, looking faintly poleaxed once more. De Sardet almost wept in triumph, in desperate despair of just how empty she felt.

“So wet for us, Coeur.” Constantin nuzzled her, eyes sliding to Kurt. She didn’t need to see the look to know it was sly, goading Kurt to give in to them. Oh, the things she knew Constantin promised Kurt with those dark eyes. “Don’t you want to know what she tastes like?

Kurt had taken a step towards her before he had even realised what he had done. De Sardet watched him through slatted lids, willing him to keep going. She wanted to stand, to go to him, but she knew that they couldn’t push him like that, couldn’t coerce him so openly. Too much pressure and he would flee rather than crack just enough to give in to what he so clearly wanted. They had given him the choice, now it was down to him to make his decision. If he wanted them, then he would come. That didn’t stop her from holding out a hand to him, however. Kurt trembled like his skin was the only thing keeping him in place, fingers and throat working, eyes glassy one moment and focused and piercing the next. For a moment it was like looking down the length of a musket to the man wielding it, knowing that your next breath relied solely on him.

Throwing the door one last look, Kurt came to her. It only took two long strides for him to be on her, bending down to cup her face and kiss her. She thought, from his rugged looks and rough manners, that Kurt would have been impatient, rough, but he was far from it. He held her between cupped hands like she was something precious, sipping from her lips as though she were to be savoured and enjoyed. He was so tender that she sighed into him, melted towards him, anchored only by the lips on her nape, the hands on her hips.

Kurt pulled away from her to look over her shoulder at Constantin. “I’m not interested in this if…” his brow scrunched as he looked for a diplomatic way to say whatever was on his mind, jerking his chin at Constantin.

Chuckling, slow and knowing, Constantin said, “I have no interest in those who have no interest in me, you’re quite safe.”

Kurt nodded curtly, looking a little unsure once more, hands still cupped about her face.

De Sardet touched a hesitant finger to the scar in Kurt’s chin, drawing his attention back to her and away from his traitorous good sense. Looking down at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there before him, Kurt blinked at her shy smile, but kissed her back when she leaned up to capture his mouth.

“Good god,” Constantin murmured behind her, his cock throbbing against her back. When he reached around to palm her, she moaned into Kurt’s mouth.

She had no idea if Kurt was a frequent visitor to the whorehouse or whether he had lovers all over the place, but the man could certainly _kiss._ If she hadn’t been sitting already, she might have swooned. There was a long tearing sound and she tore her mouth away to look back at Constantin, saying nothing as he manipulated her arms and threw the scrap of her shirt aside.

“Really?” she asked.

“What?” Constantin shrugged, not an ounce of sheepishness in sight. “You have plenty. Unless you were particularly attached to that one?”

“Maybe I wa-” Constantin rolled his eyes and reached out to grab her chin, kissing her.

There was nothing tender about this. He was in one of those moods, then. He dominated her, sweeping through her until she was trembling against him and unable to do anything but submit to him, to his all-encompassing will. Blindly, she reached out for Kurt, searching for a hand or something. Finding his belt, she tugged him down on her other side. Pressed thigh to thigh, she pulled away from Constantin and kissed Kurt once more.

How could they be so different and have the same profound effect on her?

She was overwhelmed with the offering, unsure of who to touch and where to touch them. She wanted all of them, now. Tugging herself away, she rested her forehead against Kurt for a moment, eyes closed and all too aware that she trembling.

“Need a minute?” Kurt asked softly, running a hand through her hair.

“Mmm,” was all she could manage, hum turning to a deep purr when Constantin scraped his teeth over her the skin where shoulder met neck.

Her head fell back against Constantin, Kurt’s hand flowing from the ends of her hair to the soft, open skin of her chest. So tentative was his touch that she held her breath, scared that she would spook him. She wanted to tell him there was no need for it, that there was no wrong way for him to touch her – so long as he _kept_ touching her. When he ran his thumb over her puckered nipple, her hips snapped up and she nearly choked on a moan. Constantin kissed her temple and took pity on her, sliding his hand back into her breeches and between her sopping, throbbing folds.

“Yes,” she hissed before biting down on her lip, sliding her hand behind her and into Constantin’s hair, gripping harder than she meant to.

When something warm and wet enveloped her nipple, she swore her brain blacked out for a second only to come back thick and slow as warm treacle. There wasn’t room for anything but the heat, the sensations thrumming in her, searing and urgent under her skin; the pulse in her pussy that answered each greedy pull of Kurt’s mouth, the slick slide of Constantin fingers over her, teasing dips thrown in to drive her mad. There was only the three of them, together. Their soft moans and pants filling the room. She arched into Kurt’s sucking, licking mouth, her other hand sliding into his hair, holding both men to her.

“Kurt?” she asked between pants.

“Hmm?” he hummed around her, not stopping.

She felt it down to her goddamned toes. “Shit-fuck-”

Constantin laughed into her neck, swooping up to tug on her lobe when she tried to speak again. She tried and failed several times to speak. Each time she opened her mouth one of them did something to distract her, to make her moan.

She pulled on Kurt’s dark hair none to gently and he reluctantly released her nipple with a filthy, wet pop.

Dragging him up to eye level she asked, “What do you want?”

Kurt cocked a brow. “Well…” he started, mouth forming a feral grin as his eyes slid down the length of her bare torso to where Constantin’s wrist disappeared beneath fabric. “I believe Constantin mentioned something about a ‘taste’?”

If she hadn’t been reduced to a pile of want from his words then his smile would have certainly done the job on its own.

“I believe I did,” Constantin agreed easily, pushing her to stand so that he could pull her trousers down her legs in one swift movement.

That they were still fully dressed only made her more aware of just how bare she was, standing before them. She swallowed thickly, noting the way they both looked at her.

“Exquisite,” Constantin said it with such pride, smile softening to the one he only ever wore when they were alone. The one meant just for her.

Kurt hummed in agreement, standing and sliding a hand around her neck, tilting her head to kiss her once more. De Sardet eagerly returned the affection, reaching out to hold Constantin’s hand. She had to let go however, when Kurt gripped her thighs and lifted her, turning to drop her onto the pallet. When she reached out to pull him down with her, Constantin took both her wrists and held them in his lap, above her head. She watched as Kurt pulled his shirt over his head, revealing tanned skin and deep-set muscles just…everywhere.

He was so broad, so different from Constantin. The delicate lines of a dandy replaced with the harsh ones of a warrior, of a man that had been shaped by hard physical work. He was so big as he loomed over her, eyes drinking her in somewhat desperately, that it was almost intimidating. And new, _exciting_.

A callused palm slid around over her knee, up the inside of her clenched thighs.

“I’ve got you.” Constantin leaned over her, kissing her soundly. The angle was awkward, noses bumping chins, but they made it work, lips brushing and clinging in a dance that they had long perfected but had never turned boring or ordinary. Every time he kissed her it was like the first time; where they had been drenched and cold and hungry for one another, hidden behind falling water. A world all their own. When his tongue flicked teasingly at hers, her back bowed, her knees fell open and Kurt groaned – so deep in his chest that she swore she could feel it in her thigh, vibrating through his hand.

The pallet dipped under Kurt’s weight, both hands smoothing down her thighs now. They trembled, gooseflesh following in his slow, torturous wake. Kurt hiked a knee over his shoulder and De Sardet tried to pull away but Constantin’s hand around her wrists held her firm. His mouth turned insistent, crushing in his ardour. De Sardet’s fingers flexed uselessly in his grip. When Kurt pressed a kiss to her quivering thigh, an idea struck her. Instead of trying to pull away, she pushed towards Constant, stretching until she could comfortably palm his cock through his breeches.

Constantin groaned into her mouth, pulling away and leaning his forehead against hers, his hair falling into her eyes. “Minx,” he growled, “If that’s what you want, I’m happy to oblige.” Reaching for the snaps on his breeches, he tugged until he was overflowing in her hands.

Her sure touch faltered when she felt hot breath scald her, stubble scraping along the delicate skin of her thigh. She looked down the length of her body just in time to see Kurt dip his head between her thighs, catching her eye for a brief second, and then everything fell away and there was only the divine drag of his tongue through her folds.

“Oh,” she breathed without meaning to, struggling to keep her eyes open. Between the rise and fall of her lashes she could see Constantin staring down to where Kurt’s head was working, moving as he devoured her. Chin tilting upwards, knees pressed tight to the broad expanse of Kurt’s shoulders as they kept her wide open. Constantin was _staring,_ unblinking, tongue caught between his teeth so hard that it was pale where they made contact. He looked…ravenous. His fingers laced through hers where they were uselessly wrapped around his cock, tightening her hold and pumping slowly. Like he wanted to savour the moment, draw it out. Only when she dragged her thumb along the straining vein on the underside did his gaze falter, a growl escape his lips.

It was her last good offence, however, before Constantin had to take over. Kurt, proving once more how fast a learner he was, had quickly worked out how to take her apart. What her weaknesses were. Where to strike for maximum effectiveness. How to drive her higher, push her harder until she was writhing against his face and he had to hold her down with a clawed hand around her hip. His fingers were thicker, rougher when he pushed into her slowly. Too _slow_ -

The purposeful, merciless curl of his fingers inside her – the love in the blue eyes staring down at her, paired with a hungry smirk – was her undoing.

When she came back to herself, De Sardet became aware that she was stroking the back of Kurt’s head – she had no idea when Constantin had released her to do so or when she had moved – his forehead pressed to her thigh. Constantin’s fingers were trailing through her hair, indulgent and gentle.

“That was…” she started only to find that she was unable to do it justice, trailing off into a husky laugh instead.

Both men nodded absently in agreement, Kurt unwinding himself from her boneless limbs to find his shirt. For a moment she was worried that he was leaving, too sated and shaky still to really do anything about it, but he merely wiped his face and flung it aside before looking at them. Despite having just gotten off, her mouth watered at the sight of him. It had only just taken the sharp edge off. She still ached to be filled, to feel the slide of hard flesh into her. Over and over and over, stretching her until she was sore and sated.

Hey eyes followed the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath Kurt’s breeches, her wet mouth drying up at the sight of him straining hard and heavy below the fabric. It looked like it was barely enough to contain him, the outline stunningly clear. She sucked in a shuddering breath when his fingers reached for the snaps, turning to look up at Constantin.

“A little overdressed for the occasion, no?” She said.

Constantin’s hands weren’t steady as he pulled his shift off with a jerk, she noted with feline pleasure. Reaching out to give him a brief squeeze – chuckling as he choked – she got to her knees and turned her attention back to Kurt. He had himself in hand through the slit in his trousers, eyes roaming over her naked skin as he pumped the reddened, leaking flesh.

Constantin’s hand twisted in her hair, his mouth whispering over the shell of her ear. “It’s only polite to return the favour, wouldn’t you say, Coeur?”

She nodded eagerly, holding a hand out to Kurt. He came willingly, only letting go of his cock when she replaced her hand with his, savouring how hot and thick he was dragging over her palm. Cupping the twin weights below for a moment, enjoying the way Kurt’s jaw sharpened as he ground his teeth, she goaded him down to the bed, legs hanging over the edge.

De Sardet barely gave him a moment to settle before she swallowed him down.

One of Kurt’s hand twisted in her hair, probably brushing Constantin’s well-rooted fingers, the other fisting the sheet. “Fu-”

“Mmm,” she hummed around his heated flesh, making him thrash beneath her for a moment before he forced himself to still and refrain from fucking her face. Ever the gentleman, she thought, relaxing her throat and thoroughly _rewarding_ him. He swore again, fingers flexing, Adam’s apple bobbing furiously. He was staring down at her, lashes fluttering with her working throat, looking faintly like he was in pain. Or wresting for control. 

She purred again when she felt the head of Constantin’s cock slid through her folds from behind, his thighs pressed up against the back of hers, rubbing maddening, slow lines across her clit. De Sardet tried to push back against him, trying to take him, wanting to feel him sink into her, but hand on the small of her back kept her in place. Perfectly poised for him to tease her.

Lifting her head from Kurt, she pleaded with Constantin. Her voice was shivering with want, as wet as the slick and saliva between her thighs, as light as the sea breeze – barely there at all.

But Constantin heard her, fingers dragging through the slick to swirl around the part of her that ached most. “You beg so prettily, Coeur. Tell me what you want.”

“Constantin,” she whined, feeling pathetic, trying to push back once more only for his fingers dip into her shallowly and skip away. Her hair brushed across Kurt’s thick thighs, her hand shaking as she kept working him as best as she could. When Kurt’s hand slid under her body to tug on her nipple, as an offering or support or betrayal she couldn’t say, she gasped and pitched forward. 

“I’m waiting.” The slap to her ass was quick and sharp. It made her gasp, hot blood rushing under skin to flush in the shape of Constantin’s handprint.

“Damn it,” she hissed. “Fuck me.”

It was more of a command than she intended. Expecting another slap for cheek, she waited with baited breath, but it never came. Long fingers swept up her spine, all at once lulling and dangerous, Constantin curled over her back. Cock brushing against her, hot breath on her fevered skin. Thick, throbbing expectation drummed under her skin making her feel full and heady. Constantin bared his teeth. “You’ll pay for that later,” he said, sinking them into her shoulder, hips snapping forward as he hilted himself inside her with one strong, sure stroke that make her cry out. Pitchy and breathy, elated and expectant.

Somehow, between moaning and whimpering, she managed to get her mouth back on Kurt. Every time Constantin thrust forward, she sunk further down on Kurt. Tongue swirling, hands cupping, she was determined to make Kurt come before Constantin finished her. That didn’t stop her from purposely fluttering her muscles around Constantin, making him groan and move harder, faster. His skin sliding over her back, the trousers still slung around his thighs chaffing her skin.

“St-stop,” Kurt grunted, hips rolling shallowly now, his control faltering. Hand fisting in her hair, trying to tug her off of him but unsure in that conviction. “I’m- going-”

Twisting one hand around the root of him, the other fondling the thin skin of his balls, she sunk down and _swallowed._ Kurt tried to bit back his roar but it hissed out between his clenched teeth, hips stuttering under her. Hot and pulsing in her mouth, she took everything he gave her, sucking until he softened, enjoying the cursing and writhing because he was so sensitive. Kurt’s chest was working furiously, more so than if he had been beating them up in the training yard. Nuzzling against the v shape of his hip, she peeked up at him, unable to keep the smug smile off of her face. Eyes glassy as he blinked down at her, dark and blown wide still, breath shuddering in his deliciously wide chest, hair mussed. He was the very picture of a well-debauched man. Sweet and utterly wrecked. He looked at her like he couldn’t believe his damned luck.

She knew she looked no better, flushed, lips swollen and glistening. Mouth fallen open as Constantin picked up the pace. Constantin wasted no time, fingers snarling in her damp hair, forcing her upright on her knees until her back was flush with his chest. His hips snapped against her, punishing and deep. The new angle rubbing her the right way. Her head lolled on his shoulder and she gasped in his ear. Her own fingers sought out of her nipples, so tight that even the humid air seemed to make them ache dully.

Every pull, roll, and flick lanced through her like lightening, pooling low and solidifying to something tight and coiled.

Constantin panted into her neck, wet and harsh. Motions losing force and rhythm, stuttering as he neared his end.

Lips and scruff scraped the opposite side of her neck, fingers sliding over her clit, a hard cupping her breast as if he couldn’t help himself, Kurt pressed himself to her front.

They were so hot, so solid pressed against her. It was dizzying – not quite real. Except that it was. Both of them were here, with her, undeniably real. Hands and mouths that felt like they were everywhere all at once, taking her to heights she had only ever fantasised about. But this? This was far better than anything she had ever dared to imagine. She was spiralling, she knew, nails biting into someone’s skin – she wasn’t even sure whose – as everything below her waist grew impossibly, deliciously tight. It felt like the only things keeping her together were her tense muscles and the hands on her damp, searing skin. Like if she so much as dared to breathe she would crumble.

Nudging Kurt’s cheek with her chin, she drew him into a kiss that was as filthy and open-mouthed as it was off centre. There was no need for finesse here, there was only sheer, piercing want. The need to have him inside her however she could. To have them both inside of her. His tongue slid over hers, unwittingly mimicking Constantin’s thrusts.

“Come for us, Coeur. I want to feel you.” He sounded less in control as he continued. “ _Need it.”_

De Sardet whined into Kurt’s mouth and the fingers between her legs started swirling faster, drawing her tighter than she every thought possible. It _hurt_. It hurt so good. Breath tight and almost non-existent in her full, unmoving chest. So very choking and blistering. Oh, how she hovered, suspended and ready to snap. Hoovering on the precipice, right above sweet oblivion.

She was so, _so close._ She just-

Constantin snarled and sunk his teeth into neck, pushing her over the edge. She shattered with a hoarse sob, muscles spasming. Inky spots dancing on her scrunched eyelids in a dizzying display. Her body milking Constantin’s cock as Kurt swallowed her broken, wretched moans and sighs. Holding her tight, fingers drawing out every last flutter and wave.

She barely registered Constantin pulsing within her as he reached his own peak, hands sliding around to hold her sagging form against him.

De Sardet had no idea how long they stayed like that, in the aftermath.

Mouth dry, eyes almost to heavy to open, she sighed, trusting Kurt and Constantin to hold her up. Everything felt loose and achy. Well used. Occasional aftershocks shook her, turning hot when Constantin pulled out of her for but a second before the ache set back in. She was definitely going to hurt tomorrow…and probably the day after too.

Pushing against both of them, she flopped onto the bed, ignoring the smug and cocky smiles they shot her way. She lay there, trying not to think about the stickiness coating her thighs because there was absolutely no way she was going to be able to stand to do anything about it. Laying down next to her, Constantin pulled her against him, both of them watching Kurt clean himself up.

“As good as you imagined?”

Throat sore still, she could only nod.

Kurt threw a cloth at Constantin, who winced as it landed on his chest and muttered a petulant ‘thank you.’

Fists on his hips, Kurt looked down at them curled into each other. They both blinked back at him, still drunk on the afterglow, unsure that they would ever move again. De Sardet sniggered softly as she realised that Kurt looked exactly as he did before a good training session. Except decidedly more dishevelled. Still delicious, though.

“So?” Kurt said, head cocking to the side in question.

“So?” they answered back in tandem, De Sardet stifling a yawn.

“What now?”

It was a loaded question and one she didn’t rightly have the answer to. They had two options; pretend that this had never happened (and spend an inordinate number of nights getting off to the memory) or…they could make a habit of it. _That_ would certainly make the journey to Teer Fradee much less tedious.

De Sardet looked up at Constantin, smiling at the messy curls and the sleepy turn of his mouth. Whilst Constantin had initiated this…thing, she wasn’t sure that he wanted it to be a regular occurrence. He just shrugged and yawned, shaking his head to try and ward off the post orgasm need to nap.

“We’ll work something out,” De Sardet croaked, offering a hand to Kurt. “But for now, I think it’s nap time.”

Kurt chuckled and lay down on her other side, lacing his fingers through hers. Just as it had been before… all of _that._ She fell asleep to the deep rumble of Constantin saying something to Kurt over her head and sliding a hand into her hair, but she was too far gone to listen to the blurry words.

**Author's Note:**

> Phew, this was a mammoth write. 
> 
> Let me know what you thought about it! I'd love to hear your thoughts.


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